A House Divided
by Laeta
Summary: Spoilers, some. HoratioCalleigh. Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that’s the home of happiness and love.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows _CSI: Miami_ does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Inspiration comes from odd places. The company named in this story is real as are all facts related to it save my OC's relation to it; that is fabrication. That said, I came across the name of that company in the captioning of the picture on page 585 of _Modern Physics_, fourth edition, used for course 750:313:01 in Spring 2004 and taught by Professor Gustafsson. Also, many thanks to Professor Figueira. As always, Mr. Hathaway; thank you for coming into my life. Sun Mee and b8kworm, you feed the obsession so nicely. Marianne and kdeb, you guys rock my world.

Summary: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): EoTU, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): Horatio/Calleigh

Spoiler(s): Small for "Complications". There is also a reference to that article posted on the H/C list regarding the Miami/NY crossover. When you get to that part, I'm sure you'll recognize the one I'm referencing.

..... ..... .....

Title: A House Divided

Author: Laeta  
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."  
--- Abraham Lincoln,1858

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation;  
and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."  
--- Matthew 12:25

Prologue

She evaded Horatio's questing look easily and rented a car from the first agency she found. Driving south and west and following the New Jersey Turnpike, she crossed the Delaware River into Pennsylvania. She found the junction for Interstate Seventy-Six easily and headed due west.

Exhausted, she found a motel and slept like the dead until morning.

All she had to do was mention the name "Duquesne" and she had detailed directions in hand. She wasted time until noon before she ventured out along the streets and found the estate. Though she knew it at first sight, she hesitated at its gates.

Her entire life, she loved old cities with their historic districts; it reminded her of home and the long history associated with every street corner and plaza. Here was no different; the tree-lined, modern cobblestone streets echoed the clip-clop of the old-fashioned horse drawn carriages. She had to fight the nostalgia brought upon by the old wrought iron fences and the green expanse of the parks named for long forgotten families from the time of America's birth.

The Duquesne Family Estate, located in the middle of the Historic District in Pittsburgh, drove home the sense of belonging. She had fled Louisiana in search of that feeling, only to realize its discovery so many miles north made her crave the hot, humid memories of her childhood.

She knew the family history of course; her grandmother had told them - her brothers and cousins and herself - the story of their distinguished ancestors every Christmas when the entire family had gathered together to celebrate. She could recite names, dates, and positions and do herself proud.

Gathering her courage and her heart, she walked up the flower perfumed walkway and joined the crowd lined before the massive doors for the paid tour. It was not a long wait but felt like forever to her, so much that the cool of the grand foyer chilled her to the bone.

She glanced about curiously, only half listening to the tour guide's practiced drone as he led them through the public rooms - that is, those rooms specifically appointed for public viewing. She knew the family's private rooms would be upstairs and reached by a concealed staircase towards the rear of the mansion. Again, nostalgia hit her as she recognized the décor; hundreds of years as well as miles may separate her home from this place, but it still had all the trappings of comfort.

Wrapped in memories, she lagged to the rear of her group and the tour guide did not notice her sudden absence. She found herself free from the scrutiny of the others and turned in a full circle, contemplating her next move. She fingered the worn book in her hands, the one she unconsciously had brought with her as she and Horatio left Miami.

She was not lost, not at all; the floor plan of the mansion was identical to the one she loved back in Louisiana. It was merely a question of readiness.

So, she stalled for time and ventured off into the gallery. Like most galleries, it faced the southern sky and was lit brightly by the early afternoon sun. She had to go halfway down the line of portraits before she found familiar names. She walked slowly after that, gazing at each likeness to imprint a face to the name. Then, before the very last image, she stopped, sank into a comfortable chair, and contemplated her past.

..... ..... .....  
© RK 25.Apr.2004


	2. A Lesson In History

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows _CSI: Miami_ does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Inspiration comes from odd places. The company named in this story is real as are all facts related to it save my OC's relation to it; that is fabrication. That said, I came across the name of that company in the captioning of the picture on page 585 of _Modern Physics_, fourth edition, used for course 750:313:01 in Spring 2004 and taught by Professor Gustafsson. Also, many thanks to Professor Figueira. As always, Mr. Hathaway; thank you for coming into my life. Sun Mee and b8kworm, you feed the obsession so nicely. Marianne and kdeb, you guys rock my world.

Summary: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): EoTU, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): Horatio/Calleigh

Spoiler(s): Small for "Complications". There is also a reference to that article posted on the H/C list regarding the Miami/NY crossover. When you get to that part, I'm sure you'll recognize the one I'm referencing.

..... ..... .....

Title: A House Divided

Author: Laeta  
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."  
--- Abraham Lincoln,1858

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation;  
and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."  
--- Matthew 12:25

Chapter 1: A Lesson In History

The name of Duquesne was distinguished; it always had been. Originating in France, the family was lower gentry and proudly served the king in arms. They were amply rewarded for their loyalty and eventually found themselves to be the protector of a small quaint village in the French countryside. There they lived peacefully for generations, justly presiding over affairs and sending their sons to war when the crown deemed it necessary.

During the eighteenth century, there were two brothers, the sons of the current Duquesne patriarch. As it always happened, the elder became his father's heir and the younger chose the army rather than idle his days away.

The younger son, Henri, found himself under the command of one Marquis de Lafayette and voluntarily traveled to the New World to fight for his commanding officer. The land he found himself in was equal parts familiar and strange, homesickness washing over him everyday as he heard his native French spoken in some quarters but exotic, foreign languages in others.

Eventually, as man always does, he acclimated and chose to stay behind when the Marquis returned overseas to help their home country fight her own revolutionary war. He was lucky in some respects as many of his compatriots had lost their lives fighting for a cause so similar to the one at home but not completely theirs.

It was with a bittersweet sensation that Henri Duquesne stood proudly beside General Washington as they welcomed the Marquis de Lafayette to the newly formed United States of America. For sure, it was a job well done, but Henri knew the Marquis carried a letter from home. Men who served so long together needed only a flicker of the eyes to know such things.

He was not disappointed.

The letter had dire news: Father had died early during his tenure in the New World and Charles prudently had refrained from sending news so he would not be distracted. Suddenly, the heavy weight of solitude forced Henri to tears. It was time to go home.

As he rolled along the cherished roads towards his village, he became aware of a sinking feeling in his stomach. It remained there as he saw the beloved faces of those who constantly reminded him about the reason he spent the cold, long winters overseas. It did not leave his soul as he made the pilgrimage to his father's tombstone and spent an afternoon there, missing the man who had shaped so much of his life.

He spent time helping Charles however he could, but the melancholy never left. When the French winter came, Christmas along with it, many fire lit conversations with his elder brother gradually brought to light the reason and remedy.

France was no longer home for Henri; he did not belong within the naïve world of the village. He had seen too much, he had done too much, and he had much more to see and to do. His place in life was in the New World.

Amongst tears and farewells, he parted ways from his ancestral home to make a new one in America. With the monetary grant from Charles, he put himself under the tutelage of General Washington and did fairly well for himself. Ever the restless spirit, one well suited for the rootless wanderings of a soldier, Henri explored the United States of America and ventured south.

There, in Louisiana, he rediscovered the charms of France in one beautiful, faerie woman. She captured his heart and he built his house near her family's land. Nostalgic once again, he mirrored his home after the ancestral seat nestled in the French countryside.

Married and his house turned into a home, his estate flourished as did his family. Both he and Charles were blessed by the Lord when their many sons grew into sturdy, well balanced youths. When the time came, they sent their sons overseas - one to the Old World, the other to the New - to experience everything.

Generations passed, and familial ties were gradually lost and rediscovered, lost and rediscovered. Times were peaceful.

Then war broke out.

By this time, Henri Duquesne's descendents were ignorant of the well respected family they had in France. All they knew was the bitterness of political divisions. Two brothers faced off viciously - one who saw no reason to break away from the practice of slavery, the other who hated the chains that bound man beneath his fellow man.

The story goes that one drove the other away from home; another tells it as one left home in disgust. Whatever the case, Pierre Duquesne enlisted in the Union Army and fought bravely. The story that brother faced brother on the battlefield is a lie, created for the sake of sensationalism, but it is true that neither ever looked at the other evenly again.

When the Civil War was over and the country healing from her many wounds, Pierre found a home in Pittsburgh. He stayed at a small townhouse in a respectable neighborhood and began an amazing career as a writer. It was through his works that he made a small fortune. It was also through his works that a certain family in the French countryside sat up and took notice.

Maurice Duquesne made the voyage overseas and made his way along Interstate Seventy-Six's predecessor. Once in Pittsburgh, he only needed to utter the name "Duquesne" and he was directed to a modest townhouse. He contrived a meeting through mutual friends and an instant brotherhood formed.

Pierre's fame was at its height when he began to write the history of his family. As he and Maurice sifted through the estate in France for material, and the book evolved to become a memoir for them. Most people of the times thought he would begin with his founding father in the United States. It was surprising to all when he recorded the falling out he had with his brother and then proceeded to chronicle every previous generation before him. His opening words of the book were: "I finally felt like I belonged".

He wrote about the Duquesne responsible for the freedom of the country he proudly called home. Henri Duquesne deserved a lot more than a chapter in a book, but Pierre knew - in his heart - that it was the most suitable honor his forefather deserved. He included chapter after chapter of the noble French Duquesnes, starting from when they used Quercus, noting carefully which kings they had served. He did not forget those from after the seventeenth century and included a poignant chapter on Maurice, who showed him that he had a family when his own brother alienated him.

Though he loved his time in France, Pierre returned to Pittsburgh and the lonely townhouse he called home. His small fortune had grown to a massive one, and he commissioned the Duquesne Family Estate. Knowing his family's history, he knew the mansion in Louisiana was a replica of the one in France, built to honor the family name; he did the same.

As always, time moves forward and families fall apart. Soon, the Southern, the Northern, and the French branches of the Duquesne families lost and rediscovered, lost and rediscovered their blood ties. Not even two world wars were enough incentive to have Fate bring them together again.

In the meantime, the Duquesne in the southern United States turned to law enforcement, fighting as Duquesnes always do for the weak and downtrodden, for justice, and for freedom.

Be it as it was, Calleigh followed in footsteps cast thousands of years ago by ancestors she read about in a very worn book. She heard their stories in a large formal dining room, surrounded by her cousins, fascinated. She never knew she would be the one to bring them all together again.

..... ..... .....  
© RK 25.Apr.2004


	3. Family Ties Anew

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows _CSI: Miami_ does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Inspiration comes from odd places. The company named in this story is real as are all facts related to it save my OC's relation to it; that is fabrication. That said, I came across the name of that company in the captioning of the picture on page 585 of _Modern Physics_, fourth edition, used for course 750:313:01 in Spring 2004 and taught by Professor Gustafsson. Also, many thanks to Professor Figueira. As always, Mr. Hathaway; thank you for coming into my life. Sun Mee and b8kworm, you feed the obsession so nicely. Marianne and kdeb, you guys rock my world.

Summary: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): EoTU, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): Horatio/Calleigh

Spoiler(s): Small for "Complications". There is also a reference to that article posted on the H/C list regarding the Miami/NY crossover. When you get to that part, I'm sure you'll recognize the one I'm referencing.

..... ..... .....

Title: A House Divided

Author: Laeta  
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."  
--- Abraham Lincoln,1858

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation;  
and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."  
--- Matthew 12:25

Chapter 2: Family Ties Anew

She went to college at Tulane University and, though she was fluent in Spanish, she took French film and culture classes. At first, it was to sate her need to know more about the country Henri Duquesne had left; later, it was because of Nadine.

Nadine fascinated her; her knowledge of the royal family was astounding. It was during a congenial office hour session that Calleigh discovered Nadine's vast knowledge about a number of families associated closely with the royal lineage - one of them was the Duquesnes.

She remembered that afternoon vividly. There they were - she and a few other students - discussing the French Revolution when they were sidetracked by the Marquis de Lafayette and his exploits to free the British colonies. Then, Nadine told them that he had returned to fight in France and had left a contingent of officers behind to aid General Washington; she rattled off a list of names and looked directly at Calleigh when she mentioned Henri Duquesne.

Calleigh learned Nadine's full name: Nadine Marie Stevenson, née Duquesne, a graduate student in French history. She had spent the summer in France, researching the Duquesne family when she came across the book written by Pierre, her grandfather however many times removed. It did not take long to find the village.

Once there, she reiterated Pierre's written comments on how readily they accepted her into their hearts. It was not difficult to see why: Nadine had all the Duquesne physical markings - blond hair, green-blue eyes, and perfect symmetry.

Nadine took Calleigh with her to France the following spring break. She experienced firsthand the whole-hearted warmth that comes from complete acceptance and love. Comparing it with the facsimile she had at home, she vowed to never settle for anything less than her experiences in France.

When the call came from Miami-Dade, she accepted and never looked back.

.....

The soft whisper of a woman's dress alerted Calleigh to another person's presence. Immediately chaste and embarrassed, she hurried to rise and face whoever it was. Just as quickly, her apprehension warmed into welcome - it was Nadine. Without hesitation, Nadine gave her an enormous welcoming hug though surprise highlighted the affection the woman had for Calleigh.

She introduced the older man with her though Calleigh recognized him as the second portrait she saw upon entering the gallery earlier. Calleigh quickly put the name to the face: David Duquesne, current patriarch of the Duquesne in Pittsburgh. He was the classic amiable grandfather figure, one she never had known as her own grandfather had died before her birth.

As such, David, ever the gentleman, waited for Calleigh to become more comfortable before he gave her the gift of family. He invited her to join him and Nadine for drinks, requesting service in the gallery to put Calleigh at ease.

He laughed when she asked him if she had intruded, knowing as she did that the gallery was not part of the public tour.

Then, he responded, "I would recognize a Duquesne anywhere and God strike me down if I don't offer hospitality."

Those were the same words spoken by her French relations, albeit via Nadine who acted as translator throughout the entire trip.

They spoke of Nadine's work in continuing Pierre's chronology of the Duquesne family tree. Calleigh agreed to assist as far as she could with the Louisiana branch for surely there had to be someone who knew the family history. Besides, she had a vague memory of a Bible with a family tree written in its pages; she promised to call her mother soon.

She learned about David and his work in the Duquesne Light Company, with its controversy concerning nuclear power. Fascination did not quite begin to cover the extremely rich history aligned with her name.

Hesitant at first to disclose more then the required superficial information, she soon found herself telling them everything as more members of the family drifted into the room to join them. She barely registered the afternoon turning into evening until dinner was announced. Courteous, the family gave her a few moments to compose herself as she was thrust back decades to evenings in Louisiana. It was nice to know some family traditions remained since the days of the Roman Empire.

More family members arrived during dinner as word spread that a new Duquesne had been found - especially one from the Louisiana branch. They were captivated by the story of her life like she was awestruck by the love they openly showered her and each other. Once again, she discovered the truest sense of acceptance; never again would she have to wonder if reaching out to another human being would bring pain. She always would have a safety net in the people surrounding her and those in France.

Inevitably, talk turned to Calleigh's personal life. Thus far, she had kept to her career and they vindicated her choice, approving of the continued battle against the oppression that the Duquesnes had fought for millennia.

No warning bells rang in her mind, as evening turned late, as she confided the horrors of her past. The cycles of alcoholism and abuse instilling fear into her as she sought desperately to break the chains. Relationships - all past tense - she shared. Her male cousins made her smile as they promised to thoroughly interrogate her next beau for purity of thought and motives. Her female cousins enveloped her in sympathetic arms.

Then, finally, the question she had been dreading since Nadine and Grandfather David had found her: What was she doing in Pittsburgh, a long way from Miami?

Drained by the emotions of the day, Calleigh had no answer - rather, none that she was willing to share. She felt exposed under Grandfather David's scrutiny but acquiesced to his no-brooking-any-arguments-must-spend-the-night offer. Maybe, deep inside, she no longer wanted to be alone; maybe, deep inside, she wanted someone to make all her decisions for her - if only for one night.

She sank gratefully into the feather down bed as echoes from the other occupants of the house reached her senses. She could hear them; she could also smell their mingled scents and could feel their collective presence.

..... ..... .....  
© RK 25.Apr.2004


	4. The Weight Of Destiny

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows _CSI: Miami_ does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Inspiration comes from odd places. The company named in this story is real as are all facts related to it save my OC's relation to it; that is fabrication. That said, I came across the name of that company in the captioning of the picture on page 585 of _Modern Physics_, fourth edition, used for course 750:313:01 in Spring 2004 and taught by Professor Gustafsson. Also, many thanks to Professor Figueira. As always, Mr. Hathaway; thank you for coming into my life. Sun Mee and b8kworm, you feed the obsession so nicely. Marianne and kdeb, you guys rock my world.

Summary: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): EoTU, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): Horatio/Calleigh

Spoiler(s): Small for "Complications". There is also a reference to that article posted on the H/C list regarding the Miami/NY crossover. When you get to that part, I'm sure you'll recognize the one I'm referencing.

..... ..... ..... 

Title: A House Divided

Author: Laeta  
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."  
--- Abraham Lincoln,1858

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation;  
and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."  
--- Matthew 12:25

Chapter 3: The Weight of Destiny

She woke from her nightmare to kind, cool hands and a worried face. Grandfather David passed no judgment, merely giving comfort as he habitually did.

He handed her a glass of water and watched her; it made her drink slower than she habitually would. Reversing the situation, she watched him while he settled himself comfortably on her bed.

She waited for the expectant look followed by the question, but what did happen threw her off balance.

"Who is Horatio?" David asked. He smiled carefully. "I'll ask about the nightmares after."

Calleigh sighed. She had known that she talked in her sleep; it was as though her waking hours were spent repressing her thoughts that her unconscious unloaded itself while she slept. Foremost in her thoughts was Horatio. It was always him.

When Calleigh did not voluntarily rise from her reverie, David felt his heart clench painfully. She was so new to his life, yet he loved her as equally as he loved Nadine, the only daughter of his fleeting body of flesh and blood. He could never bear to see his girls - be they his daughter, nieces, sisters, or granddaughters - unhappy.

He reached for her hand and the physical closeness brought little comfort to his heart.

"Calleigh, let me give you some advice about men, okay?"

Her wide eyes reflected the newness of their relationship; alright, he would dispel that first.

He smiled gently. "I realize we've only recently found each other, but I love you already - Daughter. Duquesnes always find their way home, don't you think?" Calleigh nodded, smiling at her long, ancestral history of family branches finding each other again and again. "Why do you think this is so?"

"Home isn't a place; it's an emotion."

"It seems strange to say it aloud, doesn't it? So many people have said the same thing before, but we're living it, Calleigh."

"This makes us special how?"

David wisely ignored the sarcasm of her tone. He shrugged and said, "No, not special. Just more prone to having our hearts broken."

David glanced away, looking around him at the room, which had been empty for an extensive period. Calleigh's presence enlivened it. Perhaps it had waited just for her; he would accept that explanation any time.

"I am only a man, an old one at that, Calleigh. My whole life has been for my family's happiness. When my son was unhappy, there was nothing I had to do besides drink the night away with him and commiserate. When my wife was troubled, I could kiss her, make love to her, and fix things for her; that was my self-proclaimed duty to her. I did it with every ounce of devotion I had for her."

He gazed at her sadly. "Yet, when my daughter had her heart broken, no matter how much I wanted to move heaven and earth to see her smile, that job wasn't for me. It was for her lover. As much as it frustrates me, the only thing I can do for my daughter is to dispel as many tears as I can. Nadine is grown now, with children of her own; can you find it in your heart to give an old man one more chance to whatever he can?"

In seconds, Calleigh was in his arms. For the first time in her life, she did not feel the absence of a strong paternal figure in her life; she finally had found him in Grandfather David. She now had an example of marital bliss that would offset the horrors of her childhood and prevent her from perpetuating the cycle to her children. She sobbed gratefully and spilled open her heart.

..... 

"We followed the evidence to New York. I've never been there and I don't know if I'll ever go back. It was cold, too cold for me."

David chuckled, knowing the opposite was true for him: he would never live in Louisiana. Visit, surely, especially when he had Calleigh there to see. To live, no, he would miss the falling leaves of autumn, the crisp morning air in winter, and the scented blooms of spring.

"Anyway, we liaised with the criminalists in New York and they helped us narrow to the search to a single neighborhood. We canvassed the area, asking people for suspicious behavior and such."

Tears formed in her eyes and refused to spill down to her cheeks.

"We had a very credible tip and we even waited for back-up. Horatio went into the building with our liaison; I stayed outside. I know how Horatio works, so I had to run interference for him. God! I never should have. The suspect went over the roof and took Horatio with him. Over and over, I see Horatio falling down from the roof of that building."

Still the tears refused to fall. David only held her hands tighter.

"The building manager maintains a small halfway house on one of the floors and he had bought new mattresses for the beds. They were piled next to the dumpster. Horatio landed on them; we found out later that he had a concussion from hitting his head against the dumpster but the suspect wasn't so lucky. He landed on pavement, died on impact."

She laughed sardonically.

"It could have gone either way, you know. Horatio could have hit the sidewalk and the suspect with only a concussion. Or, they both could have died from hitting the sidewalk. The entire difference was an inch."

"What brought you here?"

"I don't know. I didn't intend to - no offense."

"Of course not," David immediately said. Then, more hesitantly, "Might I venture into moral territory?"

Calleigh nodded. Anything to keep her mind from remembering the night she spent in the hospital, at Horatio's beside, simply watching him as the doctors retained him for observation. She woke him at the prescribed intervals when the doctors finally gave tentative approval to let him sleep.

She realized during her vigil that her heart had broken into two. One side wanted to stay and shake him for his selflessness and sacrifices; the other was compelled to run - as far and as fast as she could - away from the source of confusion and contradicting desires.

David brought her back to Pittsburgh with a gentle tug. In the end, she had done both.

"I think, Calleigh, that you're this generation's Henri and Pierre; the Duquesne that will change everything for us."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"Henri and his brother, Charles, divided the Duquesne family into two. Pierre and his brother fought each other in the Civil War, divided by political ideals. You, my dear, are divided in heart, are you not?"

She continued to look blankly at David.

"We Duqesnes are never satisfied with what we have; we are always fighting on behalf of something. Back in the eighteenth century, Henri fought for freedom for a country that only later became his home. In the process, he brought the Duquesne family name to America. In turn, Pierre fought for a political road that would cause a rift between our families. It's only now with you amongst us that the rift is being healed."

David stopped, trying to phrase his last thoughts into words.

"Now, there's you, who is fighting for justice, but that's not all, is it? Where does duty start and desire end, Daughter?"

Calleigh gaped at David.

"My brothers and nephews answered the call to military duty and law enforcement as you did; I know the rules, regulations, and guidelines. It makes things difficult to follow the heart, to find happiness in a sea of mere contentment." He held her tightly to him.

He continued: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

..... ..... .....  
© RK 26.Apr.2004


	5. Epilogue

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows _CSI: Miami_ does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Inspiration comes from odd places. The company named in this story is real as are all facts related to it save my OC's relation to it; that is fabrication. That said, I came across the name of that company in the captioning of the picture on page 585 of _Modern Physics_, fourth edition, used for course 750:313:01 in Spring 2004 and taught by Professor Gustafsson. Also, many thanks to Professor Figueira. As always, Mr. Hathaway; thank you for coming into my life. Sun Mee and b8kworm, you feed the obsession so nicely. Marianne and kdeb, you guys rock my world.

Summary: "Words are only metaphors for other words, Calleigh. You are a heart divided because that's the home of happiness and love."

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): EoTU, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): Horatio/Calleigh

Spoiler(s): Small for "Complications". There is also a reference to that article posted on the H/C list regarding the Miami/NY crossover. When you get to that part, I'm sure you'll recognize the one I'm referencing.

..... ..... ..... 

Title: A House Divided

Author: Laeta  
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

"A house divided against itself cannot stand."  
--- Abraham Lincoln,1858

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation;  
and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."  
--- Matthew 12:25

Epilogue

The morning greeted her cheerfully with a smiling sunny day. Her distant relatives looked on with quietly sympathetic faces but only Nadine acted on her confessions to David the previous night. She refused to let Calleigh leave without extracting a promise with severe repercussions if Calleigh did not give her weekly updates concerning Horatio. This, Calleigh bore with no resentment, instead savoring the female bond of sister-to-sister she never experienced in a family of boys.

At the motel, Calleigh's unconscious surprised both her and her family: in her suitcase was the Bible containing the family tree she vaguely recalled. Immediately, she handed its precious contents to Nadine and knew it was God's reward for the difficult life she led.

She did not bother to return to New York and find a way to resolve the bubbling confusion within her heart. In any case, Horatio would sense her thoughts and confront her; she was not ready for it. So, she accepted the plane ticket procured by the family and avoided Horatio.

Back in Miami, she settled her emotions by calling home - her mother, her brothers, and her cousins - and told them of the family in Pittsburgh. She spearheaded the fund whose goal would be the maintenance of the mansion. The Historic Society of America was hot on her trails as it joined, excited to aid in the restoration of a house built by an associate of General Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette.

When she returned to work, it was quietly; she neatly compartmentalized her private activities concerning the newly named Duquesne Family Mansion - the Estate was in Pittsburgh and the Seat was in France - from her public life where her unresolved emotions towards Horatio remained. Work on the Mansion distracted her, and it helped her forget Horatio. Sometimes.

Her relatives called her often and they threw frequent reunion parties in both America and France at odd times of the year simply to gather the family together. Eventually, the Louisiana Duquesnes became sister and brother, daughter and son, granddaughter and grandson, aunt and uncle to everybody in the Pittsburgh and the French branches.

Calleigh knew the relative peace she felt would end and, at that moment, she would be forced to deal with Horatio's rooftop plunge. She compromised, promising herself all the time she needed once the ribbon cutting ceremony at Duquesne Family Mansion had passed into hallowed history.

She vowed to forget the slanted look he gave her as he approved her vacation request without a contrary question. Until, surrounded by members of all three branches, she looked up and saw her father break away to greet a lone observer. Kenwall Duquesne greeted the tall man with great enthusiasm and nearly dragged the unfortunately victim closer to Calleigh.

Blinking against the bright sun, she recognized him as Horatio and her heart whispered one word to her mind: "Lover". Kenwall gave Horatio one last prompt in her direction before he turned away to attend to her mother. So, it was up to Calleigh to welcome Horatio. She straightened her shoulders; she could do this.

"What are you doing here, Horatio?"

Harsh, maybe, but he grinned. "Uhm - I was invited."

She changed her expression from wariness to disbelief.

"I - uhm - I saw the articles in the paper about the restoration of the Duquesne Family Mansion. Uhm - I compared the address with the one in your file - the part where you list next-of-kin." Then, he turned contrite. "I made a donation."

"What?"

He shrugged. "I know how much your home means to you. It was the least I could do in appreciation for the work that brought you to - Miami."

Oh, how Calleigh wanted him to say "to me". Ignoring the pang within her heart, she reached out to hug him for his generosity. It was true; home meant so much to her, but home resided within the man in her arms. When she was ready, her mind would echo the truth.

Behind her, Grandfather David and Antoine, le Grandpère from France, watched Horatio hold Calleigh awkwardly. The two men grinned; they loved weddings.

She was too far away to hear the words Antoine directed to David, but her heart heard and resonated with hope. The translation? The heart follows the trail of love to its home and thus resolves all complications.

..... ..... .....  
© RK 26.Apr.2004


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